


Trapped

by Bluewolf458



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 15:36:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5169149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluewolf458/pseuds/Bluewolf458
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something menacing is lurking in the shadows...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trapped

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Sentinel Thursday challenge 'trapped'

Trapped

by Bluewolf

Something was stalking him... but he had no idea what it was. He could see nothing, hear nothing... there was just a weird feeling of a dangerous presence somewhere near, something that could see him, that wanted him... but yet somehow couldn't quite reach him. Taking a degree of comfort from that, he tried to move away from it - slowly at first, trying to remain quiet so that it would be fooled into thinking he was still close, and then faster when he realized that his distance from it hadn't changed. He speeded up, walking a little faster, and then a little faster, before breaking into a run - and still it came after him, maintaining the same distance.

He tried to run faster, but all he accomplished was a greater degree of breathlessness, and finally he had to stop, bent over, hands on his knees as he tried to regain his breath.

And _it_ \- whatever _it_ was - stopped with him, still the same distance away.

He had no sense that it was in any way distressed. It had kept pace with him - and without being conceited, he knew he was a fast runner, with a lot of stamina. He had maintained a very fast speed for - he reckoned - over an hour. Yet it didn't seem to be out of breath.

Of course, he had no reason to think that it actually needed to breathe. It was just _there_ \- a dark, brooding presence that wanted him... that wanted him dead. And he finally acknowledged to himself that he couldn't get away from it.

But _why_ would it want him dead?

For the first time he thought to look around, and realized that he could recognize nothing in his surroundings. So where was he? For the first time he was aware of real fear.

Where was he? How did he get here? And the most pressing question of all - how could he get away?

//You will never get away.//

The voice was inside his head.

"Who are you?" He spoke aloud, though he was suddenly sure that the presence could 'hear' his thoughts.

//I am you. You are me. You are forever trapped with me as your only true companion.//

"No!" If there was one thing he was sure of, it was that he didn't want this dark presence beside him for another moment, let alone forever.

But then he remembered what the voice had 'said' - 'I am you. You are me.' How could this menacing presence be him? If it was... then indeed he was condemned to live with it - with something he feared and - yes - hated.

He forced himself to sit, forced himself to think. And slowly, slowly, he began to realize...

There was no way he could escape from his own past.

He was indeed trapped; trapped by memory of things he had done when he was younger. They were not things he normally thought about; they were in the past, a past he thought he had put behind him.

His days as a soldier. His early days as a cop, when a menacing appearance helped defend himself - and to be fair, his partner - from the sometimes violent reaction of certain members of the public to Patrol cops who were simply trying to enforce the law. His days in Vice, when he had seen things that could drive someone unable to remain impersonal to suicide. Vice cops had the reputation of being the least sociable denizens of the PD... and, he now realized, he had been one of the most impersonal.

"Jim." A gentle voice, accompanied by a gentle touch on his shoulder. It didn't fit, it was so removed from the darkness that surrounded him. "Jim. Come back to me, Jim." There was a subtle demand in the voice, something that made him want to obey. Almost reluctantly he blinked his eyes open, seeing only darkness but knowing who was with him.

"Blair?" Oh, God... he had dragged Blair, a naive innocent, into his dark world. How had he done that? "Blair... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry... " He let his eyes close again.

Blair's voice still held a note of gentle concern mixed with command as he said, "Come on, Jim. Wake up. Talking in your sleep doesn't cut it."

Sleep? He opened his eyes again, this time seeing light. Daylight. He was lying in bed; Blair was sitting on the bed beside him. "Blair."

"Yes, Blair. Who did you expect?"

"I'm... I don't know, I... I... "

"You were having a nightmare, Jim, but it was almost as if you'd zoned out on it. It took me nearly five minutes to waken you. And when you first woke up, before you were fully awake, you said you were sorry. What for?"

"Dragging you into my... my Dirty Harry world."

"Jim, I came into your Dirty Harry world voluntarily, remember?"

"No... You didn't know - don't know - what I really am. You just saw the sentinel... your Holy Grail... "

"For the first two or three days, possibly. After that? It stopped being about the sentinel and started being about Jim Ellison. Now, there's a lot about Jim Ellison's past I don't know. A lot I know you can't tell me. But can you tell me what your nightmare was about?"

"I was... In a way I was reliving my past, reliving some things I thought I'd put behind me. Things I don't really want to remember."

"Jim." Blair's voice was calm, but its timbre was inflexible. "Those days are past. Yes, they're part of you, part of what made you the Jim Ellison you are today. But they don't rule you." He touched the fingers of both hands to the center of Jim's forehead and ran them lightly outwards towards his temples, shook them as if shaking off water, then repeated the action several times, repeating, "They don't rule you. They don't rule you. They don't rule you," each time.

With each repeat Jim felt his mood lightening. "God, Blair. Thank you."

Blair smiled. "Any idea what caused your nightmare?"

Jim shook his head.

"I was stuck at Rainier all day yesterday - anything happen at the PD yesterday that could have reminded you of something in your past?"

"Nothing I can think of. I spent most of the day stuck doing paperwork."

Blair grinned. "Maybe that was the trigger. Trapped at your desk, having to do your own paperwork - that alone would be enough to depress you."

"So you spoil me by typing up a lot of my reports. Just don't let it go to your head, Junior."

"It's easier than hearing you grouse about the amount of time you waste typing up reports. You know they have to be done."

"I know... "

"Anyway," Blair went on briskly. "Have you put your nightmare behind you? Yes? Good. Now, how do you feel about doing one or two tests - "

"Blair!"

Mentally, Blair grinned. That had definitely taken Jim's mind off his nightmare. Now, could he actually persuade Jim to do some tests?

 

 


End file.
